Tell me when. When will it begin? Another Story. Another story. I have to. Back to the scene. Sway into. Stroke here. I put this on. I go down. I put this on. Another story. Another story. Another story. First, the grave. First, dive. First, sway. Stroke here. Here. Here. Here, the sea. The absurd. It is easy to, to forget the place: we, I, you. Besides the words. The purposes. Besides the words, you breathe. Threadbare. I came toward the sun. Between. Inside barrels. Barrel the sea. First, sway. Another story. Another story. Another story. We do not appear. We do not appear. We do not. Do we? Tell me. Tell me it will. Not a question. No. I put on another story. First. I go down. First. No, not a question. The thing I came for was you.
Published online March 01, 2012
Leah Umansky is a New Yorker by birth, a teacher by choice, and an anglophile at heart. She is a contributing writer for both BOMB Magazine’s BOMBLOG and for The Rumpus. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in: Barrow Street, Women’s Studies Quarterly, BOMBLOG’s “Word Choice,” Cream City Review, The Paterson Literary Review, Magma Poetry (UK), and the anthology The American Voice: Whitman, Williams and Ginsberg.